Every man

You told me to not be sad, as if words were simple prescriptions, cures to what felt like one hundred years of solitude, constant ephemeral falsified connections with beings. Do you attempt to fix broken smiles with missing teeth?

I despise the man that seeks to disguise himself with what he wants me to think is vulnerability and complexity because of words transfigured just for my ears. You’re reading the wrong books to enter this library, my library of Babel. You, Misguided and miseducated, I pull you down from your high horse, slam your face into the dirt so that you can see where manliness lives in my eyes.

Your smile is an insistent taunt that reminds me of why some men are boys.

Wisps of hair in your pubes and a garden on your face does not construct a man or maturity in its purest form. It’s a distraction, a weapon of mass destruction, a front, a surplus of unnecessary problems for the present…save some for the future…I live the end of the tale before I live in the present.

Stunting to feel powerful yet I pulled back your skin to reveal that you’re powerless so

You pray to the prey that will be your prey, an inch of empathy I measure before your knife of false identity penetrates me my body ached from pain that never converted to pleasure.

Your eyes wander in awe of statuesque breast, thighs…a mosaic of bodies that you twist within your mind.

You think it’s a free for all because with your identity came privilege.

A whirlwind one-nighter I savored like the taste of tobacco on your lips.

I consumed for no purpose.

The return value was null.

But I chose the weaker path, as you explain the intricacies of my limitations… makes me question why I choose to have cold wars with men like you.

I remember fearless hands, flight of navigators, emerge feelings I haven’t felt since that one day at the park…on the trail…When I was 16 and didn’t know my body, but he did.

You broke me down like a cardboard box that at some point served a purpose.

My purpose now is to forget fleeting nights where permanency folds and is forgotten.

I remembered when the only person I needed was myself, since when did the other side of the bed needed to be warm or occupied?

A gentle reminder

That my loneliness is the absence of drama.